


Sherlollipops - Go, Dog, Go!

by MizJoely



Series: 221 Sherlollipops [55]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Parentlock, Sherlolly - Freeform, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:10:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2708537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock reads a bedtime story to their daughter, but it inspires quite a different reaction in his wife than sleepiness. Pure smutty smut fest and shameless use of a children's story to launch said smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlollipops - Go, Dog, Go!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liathwen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liathwen/gifts).



> Blame liathwen, it's all her fault. That, and the caffeinated coffee I accidentally drank today. Story is unbeta'd and was written in about an hour so all mistakes are mine.

“And now do you like my hat?”

“I do, what a hat!”

Sherlock closed the book and glanced down at his sleeping two-year-old daughter. As usual when he read to her, she couldn’t quite make it to the end of the book, even though it was her favorite. Hers, and her mothers. He looked over at the door, where Molly was leaning against the jamb, arms crossed and a fond smile on her face. 

No, wait, the usual fond smile was missing; instead, she was…smirking? His brow furrowed in confusion, Sherlock rose to his feet (after first kissing Maddie on the forehead), put the book back in its place, shut off the overhead light, and crossed the room to his wife’s side. Her smirk (yes, definitely a smirk) widened as she backed out of the room and headed down the hall to their own bedroom. Sherlock checked the baby minder (on) and shut the door, then hurried after his wife, intrigued. Usually she got all sentimental when he read a bedtime story to their daughter, but tonight…tonight, something was definitely up.

And even more intriguing, he couldn’t quite tell _what_.

As soon as he entered the bedroom, he shut the door and quickly scanned the room. Molly, it appeared, had either entered the en suite bathroom or the massive walk-in closet that housed not only her modest wardrobe but his largish collection of bespoke suits, silk dress shirts, and of course disguises.

He was about to follow after her, having determined that it was the closet into which she’d secreted herself, when she came out, leaning both hands on either door jamb and smiling slyly. “Do you like my hat?” she asked, touching the blue-dyed straw hat on her head. A large yellow silk daisy had been affixed to it and leaned precariously over her nose as she waggled her head, her grin deepening, giggles threatening but somehow kept at bay.

Sherlock felt his own lips tugging upward in a reluctant smile – no, not reluctant, why should he be reluctant? His wife was wearing that ridiculous hat, true, but she was also wearing the scarlet silk kimono he’d bought for her on his last trip to Japan – a smuggling ring, boring and predictable, but at least the gifts he’d brought back were all appreciated – and obviously nothing else. “I do not,” he said as he stepped forward and deftly whisked the hat from her head, dropping it carelessly to the floor.

“Good-bye!” Molly trilled, just as deftly avoiding his reaching hands, stepping back into the closet and sliding the door shut.

“Good-bye!” Sherlock repeated, his grin threatening to erupt into laughter. Oh, she was such a tease, he loved it when her playful side came out in full force!

Anticipating her imminent return, he hurriedly began undressing himself, shrugging out of his suit jacket – he’d returned home late from a case and hadn’t had time to do more than remove his coat and scarf before hurrying upstairs to read to Maddie – and toeing off his shoes. Before he’d gone further than unbuttoning the cuffs of his aubergine shirt, the closet door reopened and Molly reappeared, this time sporting another blue hat, this one with a much wider brim and a pink feather bobbing over the back of Molly’s head.

“Hello again!” she said, grinning madly, her dimples in full force.

“Hello,” he rumbled, enjoying the way her eyes widened, the grin fading as she gave an audible gulp.

“Do you like my hat?” she said in a low voice, clearing her throat first. Pupils dilated, breathing rapid, pulse clear in her throat…oh yes, he was affecting her just as much as she was affecting him.

“I do not like it,” he replied, making sure to keep his voice a velvety purr as he pounced, pulling her against his body for a deep, penetrating kiss. He reached up and fumbled the second hat from her head – really, where had she hidden the things, where had she purchased them, and when? – and tossing it so that it landed squarely on top of the first one. Squashing the daisy, but who cared?

“G-good-bye again,” Molly squeaked breathlessly as the kiss ended, wriggling free of his hold and backing away…but very, very slowly. Sherlock simply grinned his most feral grin as she started to close the closet door, being very sure to keep his eyes locked with hers as he began undoing the rest of the buttons to his shirt. If his arousal hadn’t been obvious to her before this, then surely the hard ridge of his erection pressing against her belly when he kissed her should have cleared up any and all doubts.

It took her a bit longer to reappear this time, plenty of time for Sherlock to remove both his shirt and his trousers, although he left his navy blue silk boxers on in anticipation of what was to come. Sure enough, this time when the door slid open Molly was wearing a ridiculously long knit ski cap on her head – yellow, trimmed with white fake fur, and with a large red pom-pom on the end, which dangled against the back of her knees.

“Hello again,” she said huskily as she reached up and traced her fingers along his cheeks.

“Hello,” he replied just as huskily as he reached out and yanked her hat from her head. He didn’t discard it this time, just allowed it to drag over her shoulder and down over her breasts before he took up the other end in his free hand, swiftly using it to lasso her and bring her body against his. 

“D-do you like m-my…unghgh…h-hat?” Molly whispered with a groan as he buried his face in her neck, sucking hard at her pulse point. Her hands moved down to grasp his shoulders, and he could feel the hard points of her nipples through the thin material of her kimono, pressing like fire against his chest.

“I _do not_ like that hat,” he growled as her lips closed over his left earlobe, a particularly sensitive spot for him. “Although,” he mused as he wrapped the ends around his wrists and slid the middle section beneath her bum, snugging her groin tightly against his, “I could find some alternate uses for it.”

Molly moaned and nipped at his earlobe as he went off-script; he retaliated by using his body to shove her up against the wall, abandoning the ski hat in favor of grasping her wrists and pushing them up on either side of her head as he kissed her again. 

She groaned again and pulled her head back as the kiss ended, staring at him wild-eyed, her hair mussed and lips a bit swollen from the intensity of his kisses. “And if you fucking say good-bye and come out with a god-awful recreation of that last monstrosity of a hat, Molly,” Sherlock growled, reaching down to wrench open the ties to her kimono, “I swear I will text John and tell him we have an urgent case requiring our attention out of town for at least a week!”

Her response was a quick shake of the head as she grabbed his face and pulled him down for a kiss even more intense than the last one. One leg went up around his hips, hauling him even closer as she ground against him. He could feel the wetness of her sex through the thin material of his boxers; with another feral growl he lifted her up and carried her effortlessly to the bed. Once there he quickly tore off the last remaining scrap of material between them while she scooted backwards, the kimono still hanging off her arms but concealing nothing; not her sweet, pink-tipped breasts, not her softly dimpled belly, not her neatly trimmed pubic hair or the glistening pinkness between her legs.

He gave his already-hard penis a few cursory pumps with one hand as he knelt up over her, loving the way she watched so avidly, her tongue darting out to swipe at her lips. He groaned at that provocation, then swiftly lowered his body to cover hers. Their tongues danced in a series of gasping kisses as he teased her opening with the tip of his erection; feeling how wet and ready she was for him, he swiftly plunged inside as she let out a small, squeaky moan of approval. Her hands were on his shoulders, fingers digging urgently as she shifted her hips to accommodate him, and he lowered his mouth to her throat once more, uncaring of the marks he knew he was leaving on her soft, pale flesh. It was winter; she could wear high-necked blouses and jumpers and no one would know the difference.

“Fuck,” he gasped as she moved her hips _just so_ , twining one leg around his backside and digging her heel into the yielding flesh. She grinned, then gave a gasp of her own as he reared up on his heels, dislodging her leg as he hauled her onto his thighs and pumped into her with furious speed. Her gasp became a moan, the moan became a series of groans and sighs and occasional squeaks, and it all gave way to a keening wail as he released his grip on one knee and reached down to tweak her clitoris.

He waited for her to finish shuddering through the aftershocks of what he smugly recognized as a simply _smashing_ orgasm, then pulled out of her as sudden inspiration struck.

“Sherlock?” he heard her call puzzledly after him as he rushed into the closet, kicking aside the hideous hat collection on his way. But when he reappeared with a smirk, his prize firmly placed atop his head, she laughed aloud and nodded, reaching for him.

As he settled back onto her, his penis sliding into her still-eager body, he leaned down and nuzzled her cheek, whispering, “Do you like my hat?” into her ear.

“I do!” she gasped as he began moving again, thrusting into her, feeling her body moving with equal enthusiasm against his as his climax neared. “What a hat!”

With those three words, Sherlock came, moaning out Molly’s name in sheer bliss.

He knew the damned deerstalker would come in handy some day.


End file.
